Chapter 369: Sacrifice
Upon returning to Chaoyu Base, Wei Dinghai wasted no time initiating a thorough investigation into the mysterious force in Lu River District.
His search led back to a series of events that began months ago with a peculiar mass text from Lu Fengda, circulating through Tianhai City.
The name Zhang Yi resurfaced.
Connections were drawn: Yuelu Residential Area, Zhang Yi, the theft at Walmart South China Warehouse…
Piece by piece, the puzzle began to form, drawing closer to the truth.
Meanwhile, Yangsheng Base’s intelligence network, equally diligent, had made its own discoveries. But Xiao Honglian’s focus wasn’t solely on these clues—it was the unexpected signal from Gao Yuan’s satellite phone that piqued her interest.
Yangsheng Base, Intelligence Division
Her team had tracked Gao Yuan’s satellite phone signal to the border between West Hill and Lu River Districts, near the Lu River.
Though pinpointing the exact location was impossible due to signal interference, they managed to narrow it down to a five-kilometer radius.
“Xu Family Town, Cloud Manor,” Zhuge Qingtian noted, adjusting his gold-rimmed glasses. “These are the only inhabited areas nearby. If there’s a force capable of challenging West Hill Base, it’s likely located there.”
Xiao Honglian’s eyes flickered with a calculating light as she weighed her options.
Who were these people? Why had they killed her men?
And why had the signal disappeared, only to reappear now? It all felt orchestrated, as if someone was manipulating events behind the scenes.
“We’ll have to send scouts,” Xiao Honglian murmured.
Zhuge Qingtian suggested, “Should we involve Wei Dinghai? Sending a joint team would increase our chances of success.”
Xiao Honglian waved the idea away.
“Unnecessary,” she said with a confident smirk.
“This mysterious faction, though powerful enough to contend with West Hill Base, must be weakened by now. Their peak strength likely only matched West Hill’s.”
“West Hill Base is gone, and if they’re as battered as I suspect, this could be our chance to swoop in and claim their assets.”
Zhuge Qingtian nodded but remained cautious. “It’s still risky. They’ve already taken down two Superhuman squads from our bases.”
Xiao Honglian thought of her late cousin and shook her head.
“He was weak. This time, I’m sending Dong Hu. He’s reliable.”
“As for Chaoyu Base, let them fend for themselves. Wei Dinghai plays nice now because he needs us. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be so polite.”
With Xiao Honglian’s decision made, Zhuge Qingtian refrained from further argument and sent for Dong Hu.
The aftermath of the battle had left the Followers of the Snow God’s headquarters in ruins. The ground was soaked in blackened blood, littered with the shattered remains of fallen fighters.
Inside the cathedral, women and children huddled together under the protection of the cult’s guards.
Only the adult male cultists had fought—and died—outside.
Zheng Yixian inspected his severely burned arm, where Xiao Honglian’s fiery punch had left his flesh charred, exposing raw muscle and cracked bone beneath.
The bitter cold numbed his pain, but exhaustion weighed heavily on him.
Han Chang and others surrounded him, their faces etched with worry. They couldn’t forget how close Zheng Yixian had come to death in his duel with Xiao Honglian and Wei Dinghai.
The combined might of the two base leaders was terrifying, a testament to the brutal path they had walked to the top.
“I’m fine. I’ll seek the Holy Maiden for healing,” Zheng Yixian said, pulling a white fox fur cloak over his wound as he turned toward the cathedral.
“Clean this place up.”
His eyes briefly closed, his usual composed clarity giving way to a flicker of weariness.
As Zheng Yixian retreated, the cultists who had fought so valiantly began to falter. The adrenaline and divine fervor that had driven them started to fade.
Seeing the carnage around them, the pain from their wounds finally struck.
Cries of agony rose as the reality of their injuries set in.
From the crowd, women in white religious robes stepped forward, raising their hands.
“Brave warriors! You have received the Snow God’s blessing. Your souls shall ascend to the divine kingdom, where peace and joy await!”
While these words offered spiritual solace, physical relief was scarce.
A group of nun-like followers rushed among the wounded with medical kits, offering basic first aid. Supplies were too scarce for more than rudimentary care—bandages for bleeding, no proper disinfectants.
A severely injured man with a severed arm reached out to one of the nuns.
“Help me… I can still be saved,” he pleaded weakly.
The nun knelt, tears of compassion welling in her eyes.
“May the Snow God’s mercy embrace all suffering souls,” she whispered. “Your devotion will lead you to paradise.”
With gentle reverence, she drew a sharp blade and, before he could react, plunged it into his carotid artery.
His eyes widened in disbelief as his life faded.
The nun closed his eyes, murmuring, “How fortunate you are to meet the Snow God so soon.”
Such scenes were commonplace on the battlefield.
The cult lacked resources to care for the gravely injured, so they were “released” to join the Snow God in the afterlife.
In time, this grim practice had instilled a belief among the cultists: dying for the Snow God guaranteed entry to a divine paradise.
Meanwhile, deep within a forbidden building behind the cathedral, gruesome rituals unfolded.
Blood-red vines slithered from the shadows, dragging corpses into the building’s depths.
Inside, a massive, pulsating crimson plant anchored itself, its vines spreading throughout the structure.
Cocoon-like pods hung from the ceiling, containing vaguely human forms. The plant absorbed the corpses, exhaling a red mist that filled the space with an eerie glow.
From the vines sprouted crimson, apple-like fruits, growing plump with grotesque vitality.
Watching from a distance, Han Chang folded his arms, his face grim.
“May the fallen sustain the living. Their sacrifice feeds our hope.”